


Thursdays

by BexYZ



Category: Community
Genre: Fluff, Gen, M/M, Music
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-02
Updated: 2020-12-02
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:54:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27842566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BexYZ/pseuds/BexYZ
Summary: They are together every other day. Troy wants to know where Abed goes on Thursdays.
Relationships: Troy Barnes/Abed Nadir
Comments: 10
Kudos: 83





	Thursdays

Troy always left the study room with Abed on Tuesdays. They would leave a little early and grab a table for the group in the cafeteria.

On Friday afternoons, Troy would follow Abed to his dorm room for movie nights. They would take turns picking a place to get take out and Abed would introduce the movie (or two, or three) for the night. Sometimes Troy would sleep over and the next morning they'd watch cartoons and eat cereal and plan their latest post-apocalyptic survival plan. (They had already covered zombies, nuclear wastelands, tsunamis, alien invasions - friendly and hostile, and giant cockroaches.) Fridays were Troy's favorite.

On Mondays Abed had Intro. to Introductions and on Wednesdays Troy had dance practice.

But Troy had no idea what Abed did on Thursdays.

So far, he had said it was for doctor appointments (Abed hated doctors), working in the school garden (Abed hated vegetables), and tutoring Pierce in calculus (Abed hated variables). Troy was starting to doubt his explanations.

One day, Troy had had enough of the excuses and vague shrugs and followed Abed across campus, behind the main office, down an alley...and then he lost him.

Not to be deterred, Troy tailed him again the next week. This time they cut through the cafeteria kitchen, across the football field, under the bleachers, up onto the library roof...and then he lost Abed again.

Troy was really starting to get suspicious.

The third week, Troy finally found Abed's real destination. In the basement of the music building, Troy found several instrument practice rooms and watched as Abed slipped into the one at the end of the hallway and carefully closed the door. Troy channeled his best spy moves as he steathily peeked into the window of the door. He relaxed when he saw Abed's back was to the door and watched with fascination as Abed took a seat at one of the school's practice pianos.

Troy stood transfixed as Abed began to play, long fingers dancing over the keys, eyes focused somewhere in the distance, torso swaying gently with the beat.

It was the most beautiful thing Troy had ever seen.

Over the next few weeks, Troy kept following his best friend. He listened as Abed worked his way through classical arrangements, modern pop music, and pieces Troy recognized as the scores from Abed's favorite movies. He watched the music flowing through his friend's body - his hands moving fluidly up and down the piano, eyes closing during emotional interludes, shoulders bunching as he worked up to a powerful crescendo and relaxing on the other side.

Troy started watching Abed's hands everywhere else too. How his fingers spun his pencil during study sessions. How he deftly maneuvered the controller when they played video games. How he tapped his leg when he was bored or how he raised his finger to explain a connection between some television show and whatever was happening with their friend group.

One afternoon (after following his friend back and forth through the library three separate times and climbing down a fire escape), Troy saw the practice room ajar.

"You can come in, Troy," Abed said calmly, back still to the door.

Troy sheepishly poked his head into th e room and had the grace to look guilty when Abed turned to look at him. "How long have you known?"

"A few weeks now. You started humming songs that I'd been playing while you read. I thought maybe it was a coincidence, so I started playing more obscure pieces until I was sure."

Troy was so curious he couldn't help asking, "Why do you take a different route every time?"

"I thought I was being followed," he said simply. Troy started to tell him that he was acting paranoid, but then realized it might not be paranoia if it's true and he held his tongue.

"My dad had me start lessons after my mom left," Abed continued, turning back to the piano. "He said it would help keep my mind off of her being gone. I think he also thought it would make me more 'normal.' Normal kids take piano lessons - they don't stay up until 3 am trying to film a reenactment of 'Dirty Dancing' with their stuffed animals or narrate the bus ride home until someone pushes their head against the bus window."

Troy put his hand on Abed's shoulder and Abed covered it with his own and squeezed. "Why did you keep watching?" he finally said, looking up at Troy.

"You're really good, Abed," Troy said, gathering his thoughts. "And you look so comfortable when you play. It was beautiful." Brown eyes met darker brown as he added in a quiet whisper, "You're beautiful."

Abed smiled softly. "I always thought it was something I wanted to do alone, but I liked playing for you. We can start walking together if you want. I won't even make you through crawl through the air vents again."

"Sounds good, buddy," Troy smiled and settled against the wall to listen.

Thursdays, Troy decided, were his new favorite day of the week.

**Author's Note:**

> Very quick little fluffball. Apologies for typos! Comments/constructive criticism welcome! :)


End file.
